Part 4
The puppy reached the hand first. He pushed his muzzle against the woman’s wrist and cried.
Warren lowered himself onto one knee and leaned into the cramped space. As he reached toward her neck, her fingers curled faintly against the leaves.
“Movement,” he said. His voice came out louder than he intended. “She moved.”
Vance brought the flashlight lower.
They cleared enough loose debris to expose the woman’s face and upper body. There was bruising along her cheek and dried blood near her hairline. Her clothes were damp, and a torn blue sleeve clung to her shoulder.
Warren found her pulse.
It was fast and difficult to feel, but it was there. Her chest lifted shallowly beneath the ruined shirt.
“Breathing. Tell the medics we have her.”
Vance was already on the radio, giving their updated position and describing the slope. The other officers moved branches carefully, opening a route to the hollow without trying to pull the woman out.
The puppy planted himself beside her head. When Warren reached to clear leaves from her face, he moved between Warren’s wrist and her cheek, frantic rather than threatening.
“Let me help her.”
Warren kept his hand low. The puppy sniffed his fingers, then turned back and began licking the woman’s chin.
Her eyelids stirred.
“Can you hear me?” Warren asked. “I’m a police officer. Help’s coming down now.”
Her eyes opened only a little. They traveled past him, unable to settle, until the puppy pushed his nose beneath her hand.
“Gus?”
The sound was hardly more than air.
Warren looked at the dog. “Gus. That’s you?”
At the sound of her voice, the puppy gave a small bark and pressed himself against her side.
Her hand moved in slow increments until her fingers reached his fur. She closed them there, loosely, and a tear ran toward her ear.
“They left me,” she whispered. “I couldn’t…”
“Don’t try to move.”
Her eyes found Gus again.
“I thought he was gone.”
“He brought us.”
Her mouth trembled. She tried to take a deeper breath and winced.
Warren looked up at the sound of equipment being carried through the brush. The medical crew had reached an access lane above the hollow; flashes from their vehicle showed briefly between the trunks.
“Down here,” Vance called. “Watch your footing.”
The medics came in with packs and a rescue stretcher. Warren moved back enough to let them work, keeping one hand near Gus so he wouldn’t get caught beneath their equipment.
A medic checked the woman’s breathing while the other supported her neck and asked quick questions. They covered her, took her vital signs, and worked with a practiced economy that made Warren stop watching his own hands.
“How is she?” he asked.
The nearer medic looked up only briefly.
“Critical. We can still get her through this. We need to go.”
Gus tried to follow every movement as they eased her from the hollow. When the stretcher rose, he sprang toward it with a cry.
Warren caught him and held him against his chest.
“You’re not getting left behind.”
The puppy strained once toward the woman. Warren turned so he could see her being carried up the slope.
“See? We’re going with her.”
Gus stopped struggling, though his whole body continued to shake.
At the ambulance, the crew found room for Warren to accompany them with the puppy contained securely on his lap. Vance remained behind to direct the investigation. Before the doors closed, she caught Warren’s eye.
“I’ll meet you there.”
He nodded, and the latch shut between them.
Inside, Gus pushed his nose toward the stretcher rail. Warren kept him clear of the tubing while the medic secured the woman’s oxygen mask and adjusted the blanket over her.
The woman turned her head a fraction.
“The dog,” she said.
“He’s here.” Warren lifted him enough for her to see. “He’s sore, but he’s here.”
Her eyes filled.
“They kicked him. I thought…”
Gus reached toward her hand. With the medic’s permission, Warren brought him close enough that she could touch him without changing position.
She caught one small paw between her fingers.
Warren waited until her breathing settled before speaking.
“Can you tell me anything about the men?”
She stared at the ceiling for a moment. The medic glanced at her monitor, then told Warren quietly to keep it brief.
The woman spoke in pieces, with pauses between them.
“I was coming home. Groceries. It had gotten late.”
Her thumb moved across Gus’s paw.
“I heard them running behind me. There were two. One grabbed me around here.” Her free hand shifted toward her upper arm, then stopped. “The other pulled at my bag.”
Warren listened without interrupting.
“They had a van. I tried to yell when they dragged me to it, and one hit me. I dropped the bags. Everything went everywhere.”
She swallowed. The medic helped her take a breath before she continued.
“Gus went after the man holding me. Bit him. I heard him shout.”
The puppy’s ears moved at her voice. He licked the edge of her thumb.
“The other one kicked him away.”
Warren’s hand tightened beneath the dog. He forced his fingers to loosen before Gus could feel it.
The woman shut her eyes.
“I heard him cry. Then I don’t remember getting into the van.”
The ambulance took a turn. Warren braced his feet and kept the puppy steady while the medic checked the woman again.
“When I woke up, we were by the woods. They pulled me out. They’d brought my purse, my things. They threw them down and went through all of it.”
That accounted for the scattered belongings. Warren kept the thought to himself, letting her choose what she could manage next.
“They wanted money. I didn’t have much.”
Her breathing grew quicker. The medic touched her shoulder and asked her to slow down.
Warren was ready to stop the questions, but she turned her face toward Gus.
“He came back. I saw him near the trees. One of them went to grab him.”
Her fingers tightened around the little paw.
“He ran. The man slipped trying to catch him, and Gus kept barking from farther away. They kept looking at him instead of me.”
She paused for several breaths.
“They dragged me down there. Behind the tree. I couldn’t get up.”
Warren looked at the medic. She was listening while checking the pressure cuff, her expression carefully still.
“After they left, I tried crawling. I yelled until I couldn’t.”
The woman’s eyes opened. She studied the puppy as if making certain he was real.
“Then he came limping back.”
Gus tucked his muzzle into the curve of her hand.
“He stayed beside me all night. Crawled right up against me. Whenever I moved, he woke up.”
She drew a shaky breath beneath the mask.
“When it got light, he went away. I thought he was too hurt to stay. Or hungry. I didn’t blame him.”
Warren felt his throat close. He looked down at the scraped paws he had made hurry along the sidewalk.
“I was wrong,” she whispered.
The medic let Warren settle Gus briefly against the woman’s upper blanket, away from the equipment. The puppy stretched his neck to nuzzle beneath her chin.
“He found somebody,” she said.
Warren steadied Gus with both hands.
She looked at him then. “You went with him.”
He nodded.
“Thank you.”
Warren glanced at the dog, who had finally stopped trembling quite so hard.
“Thank this one.”
By late evening, the woman had been assessed, treated, and moved into a private room. Warren had learned that her name was Leah Bennett. He had also taken Gus for a veterinary check while the hospital finished its work, then returned with him cleaned, examined, and wrapped in a fresh blanket.
The hospital had approved a supervised exception for the puppy. A nurse showed Warren where he could sit and made it plain that Gus was to stay clear of the medical lines.
For once, the little dog seemed willing to accept a rule.
He lay on the blanket near Leah’s hand, lifting his head whenever she breathed differently. The veterinarian had found bruising and battered paws, but no injury that would keep him from recovering with rest.
Warren stood at the window. Beyond the glass, headlights crossed the parking lot. He had called in his report, answered Vance’s questions, and gone over the locations of the evidence until he could describe each turn without looking at his notes.
Now there was nothing he needed to say.
Leah slept. A monitor sounded at regular intervals. Somebody rolled a cart past the door, its loose wheel clicking once each revolution.
Warren rubbed the heel of his hand over one eye.
He had delivered death notifications. He had waited outside operating rooms with people who wouldn’t sit down. There were addresses he still avoided when he wasn’t on duty.
At the window, he could see a faint reflection of his uniform, the sleeve scraped by thorns and a streak of dirt still dried above one knee.
Gus lifted his head.
Warren tried a smile for him, then crossed to the bed and checked that the blanket hadn’t slipped from Leah’s shoulder.
“Rest,” he whispered to the puppy. “You’ve done enough.”
Gus stood instead. He came to the edge of the mattress, and Warren knelt before he could try to jump.
The puppy stepped into his arms.
Warren held him loosely at first, one hand beneath his hindquarters, the other protecting the sore shoulder. Gus pressed his face beneath Warren’s chin.
The first tear reached the dog’s ear before Warren realized he was crying.
He bowed his head. Another tear followed. His breath caught so abruptly that he had to close his mouth to keep from making a sound beside Leah’s bed.
“You got her out,” he whispered.
Gus wriggled closer. Warren shut his eyes and rested his forehead against the clean fur, unable for a moment to do anything else.
When he finally tried to wipe his face, a soft pressure stopped his hand. Gus had braced one paw just below Warren’s badge…
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